Better trained at conversational Italian, my Spanish is so-so at best. But I understand what I need to know.

I didn’t feel uncertain with the Nicaraguan officials due to a lack of language but rather to what I was reading from their facial expressions and body language.

After thirty-five minutes, several questions, photos, and stone-faced looks, we finally had Nicaragua stamps in our passports.

Took forever but we got our Visas for Nicaragua.

Feeling like we were re-enacting a scene from Queen of the South, I knew we were entering questionable territory.

Waiting for our driver and Gabriel to wrap up security checks, we stood in front of our van.

Carmen and I maintained conversation with our unsuspecting travel mates as we scanned our surroundings. As a former security analyst and Carmen, an airport behavioral analyst, “watching” was second nature for us.

A short stout Nicaraguan man approached us with a stack of local currency tightly wrapped in plastic. He offered “cambio.”I glanced to my left and saw a tiny currency exchange office.

“No gracias”, I nodded.He stepped back but still loitered about.

I watched wearily, wondering what was taking our van driver and tour guide so long as ten foreign bodies lingered lazily around.

I whispered to Carmen, “You watching?”

“You know I am”, she replied, unblinking in her Charleston drawl.

Sili noticing asked, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, we’re just keeping an eye on things.”

I tried to respond with a reassuring smile. I honestly didn’t know what was going on around us.

Also picking up in the lapse of superficial chatter, Christie wondered, “what’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know.”

Approaching Gabriel, I went to find out what was the holdup. He stood talking to three other men.

Walking towards me, half-smiling half-nervous, he asked if it was okay if one of the guys could ride with us.

I raised my eyebrow and asked him, “How did he get here?”

Responsible for my friends’ safety, I was not cool with some random stranger riding in the van with us.

“No no no no it’s okay. I know this guy he’s okay. It’s okay,” Gabriel tried to reassure me.

Irritated and feeling inconvenienced on OUR tour, I responded, “Look, I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t even know you. I need to keep them safe.”

“No, noo. Don’t worry. He’s good,” Gabriel pressed.

As I looked the guy over, I saw that he was a slight guy. He was about five foot eleven, maybe 150 pounds.

I assessed the situation very quickly. As I thought about things, I realized that it could present more of an issue for us if we didn’t do this “favor” than if we did.

One of many Nicaragua guards we encountered

Countries like Nicaragua run on favors. The Nicaraguan officials might find it suspicious and not let us in after all.

Or they might give us a hard time coming back across the border, deterring us from getting out in time.

And being trapped In Nicaragua was not on the girls’ getaway itinerary.

So I acquiesced.

I figured, if it came down to it at least two of us could take him. Informing the ladies of our guest, we quickly decided where we would sit.

The situation quickly began to feel a bit like Charlie’s Angels.

Don’t leave home without it

Our Nicaraguan travel companion

I had a tiny military knife in my pocket that my husband gave to me as a gift after his last deployment.

We decided that Carmen and our guest would sit in the front row of the van. He would be on the end closest to the door.

Christy would sit in the back row.

Sili would sit on the end of the second row directly behind our guest. And I would be positioned on the inside, close to the window, slightly behind Carmen and on our passenger’s 7 – in clear view of his left artery.

Quickly discussing the seating arrangement, we assembled into formation entering the van before our hitchhiker could grab a seat.

Ride or Die Homies – The Scenario

If need be, Carmen would elbow him with her right arm and put him in a choke hold.

I would come around to his right and pick him in the throat with the knife.

Sili was responsible for opening the door and kicking him out Sparta-style.

Christie’s responsibility was to keep the incident silent and take care of calming down Gabriel and the driver.

In hindsight I realize how silly we were. Thankfully nothing happened.

The poor guy was petrified. He sat in the car surrounded.

All he wanted was a ride into San Carlos.

The colorful and dusty streets of San Carlos after the rain fall.

When we arrived in town he hopped out of the van without an “Adios.” Our traveling compadre was gone in the blink of an eye.

Oh well. At least we were prepared.

Truth be told, I was relieved we didn’t need our self-defense skills.

However, I wasn’t completely relaxed just yet. We had seven more hours to go in Nicaragua.

I am crying-laughing and reliving this moment all over again. It was me… I was the one who wanted to stop for coffee! LOL So this is ALL my fault! LOL!
That poor guy! Chuck is right, he just wanted to ride, not die! LOL! Just the thought of Sili going “Sparta” on him has me on the floor! I would have come up with an awesomely clever cover story Can’t wait for the next installment!

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